We now have a few more weekdays under our belt, and
certainly feel like we are moving forward a bit more each day. Today I left
Leah at the nursery on her own for the first time, though only for a few hours,
for one last “settling in” session before she starts full time. She got a bit
quiet on the way into the nursery courtyard, and that turned into outright
clinginess as I took off her snowsuit and boots and hung them on an empty hook.
A group of toddlers wandered over, remembering us from yesterday, and each
launched into thickly-accented stories about what their “mummy” packed them to
wear, or what they had for breakfast, or something along those lines. One of
the teachers who is called Gillian but goes by Gilly came over and tried to get
Leah intrigued by a sand table, but Leah was fully aware of what was about to
happen next. So as I said a quick goodbye, she started to cry and I had to dash
out. I could hear her wails as I descended the steps of the loft, and if it
weren’t for the loud coos of the doves in the barn rafters above that drowned
out the sound, it would have been impossible to leave. When I returned two
hours later, she was happily seated between girls called “Poppy” and “Ruby,” finishing her pudding. I have figured out that “pudding” is the name of the
dessert course here, and is never actually pudding. Here, it often seems to be
plain yogurt with some set honey stirred in, served alongside some sliced
grapes. We have decided to start calling dessert “pudding” at home as well, and
to use as much other British vocabulary as we can, at least for things related
to nursery, so that Leah can understand and can make herself understood to her
teachers. So, “diaper” is now “nappy” and “rainboots” are now “wellies,” and we
are trying to use the phrase, “well done, clever girl” as much as possible. I
can’t mimic their pronunciation, of course, so when one of her teachers referred
to the “poor teddy” who had lost a button and made the word “poor” sound like
my pronunciation of “pure,” I knew that was a lost cause. I am trying, though,
and as I left the nursery with Leah today, I shouted over my shoulder a
parting, “Oh, ta, see ya tama-rrrrha at half-eight. Cheers!”
Emma and John are also benefitting from a bit more
experience at their school, and aren’t feeling so overwhelmed as they head off
in the morning. They are still catching up, and Emma is frustrated that her
teachers don’t seem to be too worried about the upcoming “prelims” tests, and
aren’t providing any review materials for her to use in preparation. John, in
S1, doesn’t have any impending tests to worry about, so he’s feeling more
relaxed. He is enjoying the twice-weekly PE class because he likes the
opportunity to show off his speed, especially for a kid his height. He’s also
having a great time in the music class, which sounds like a bit of a
free-for-all, with no one actually playing the same instrument for more than a
class period or two. Can you imagine that racket? Emma’s favorite class is,
surprisingly, geography. She was keen on taking drama (which they pronounce
here with the most drawn out short "a” sound I have ever heard a human make…) but there
wasn’t room, so geography was a second choice, and in fact she only chose that
because some of the other courses offered during that time were on fashion or
even (not kidding here) cake decorating. Though that sounded fun, she worried
how that would look on her transcript, so she went with the safe choice.
They are also still making adjustments to their uniforms to
match what they are seeing the other kids wear. The girls in Emma’s building
seem to have decided collectively to ditch the no-jeans rule, and
regularly turn up in black denim. Or, I should say, those girls who don’t show
up in a pencil skirt so tight and short that it basically looks like a belt.
The blazer also hasn’t made the cut for most of the girls, and it seems like
the basic requirement is that they wear some kind of collared white shirt with
the school tie on top. Emma is pressuring us to ease up on the dress code,
though I am very reluctant as the head teacher just told us on Friday what the
requirements were, and the front page of the school website features a large
paragraph about how parental support for the uniform is essential. We feel it’s
just too early to let her slide a bit, though I know this does put her in an
uncomfortable position of appearing different from everyone else. I did relent just a bit today and took her to the H&M down the street after school to find some
black ankle boots that were a replica of those worn by her friends.
The kids in John’s building seem to adhere to the dress code
much more carefully, though they do still express some individuality through
their shoes. The shoes have to be black, but the boys manage to come up with a
number of variations of black in a variety of brands. Luckily, I had done some
research on this before we left the U.S., and used the advice of a family who
had spent a semester here previously, and bought John a pair of Nike Janoskis
for Christmas. I have no idea who “Janoski” is, and neither does John, but the
kids in his class apparently do, and John was thrilled to report after school
yesterday that the boys were duly impressed with his treads. Unfortunately, we are now going to have a
bit of problem with the rest of the dress code because John came out of the school today with a sheepish look,
and said that he had ripped open the back seam of his blazer between classes.
He said he did it by tripping on a step, and I didn’t even bother to point out
the utter ridiculousness of this statement. I assured him, while trying to
refrain from any eye-rolling, that it was fine and he could just borrow Emma’s
rejected blazer while I searched out a tailor to make the repair.
One detail that I still can’t work out about their day is
their lunch. They are both bringing money to school, and are spending the lunch
break walking around the town with their friends, but neither of them are
spending much of the money they have been given so far. John is a bit concerned
that his group of friends head off to a “tuck shop” down the street and buy
crisps and Irn-Bru for lunch. He’s worried about how unhealthy this is for some
reason, though why, I have no idea, since this is normally not a worry for
John. He is usually just as happy to request pizza or a burger for lunch as
almost any kid. I actually think it has to do with the fact that he sees a
number of kids from his school smoking, and this he finds absolutely
appalling…so much so that when he saw two kids smoking in one section of the
Lade Braes on the way home from school, he asked me if we could find a different
way to walk home from now on. This lunch concern seems to be an issue for him, and so he
just isn’t eating anything while he’s away from the house. We are going to have
to find a work-around for this at some point, though he is flatly refusing to
stick any food from home into his backpack as that’s just not done either. I’m
not too worried about it, since John isn’t one to go hungry for long. Emma, on
the other hand, is making her way around the St. Andrews sandwich shops with
her friends, and comes home every day with a new report about which little tea
room sells delicious lentil soup, and which one has a small packet of
pomegranate seeds “on offer” for £1. I think overall that a
number of the lunch places in St. Andrews are kind of pricey, so I’m still not
sure how she has managed to buy herself lunch for the last three days, and
still have some change from the £10 bill I gave her when we first arrived. I’m
actually starting to think that some of the sandwich shops have an unpublished
menu for the Madras kids, with some things ready for takeaway at a reduced
price in the one hour they have off for lunch. When John is finished with it, I
will have to borrow Emma’s Madras blazer and try out my theory!
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